


Dude, is porn a taxable income?

by ElisAttack



Series: I want you (no, I mean your art) [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Porn, Anal Sex, Artist Stiles Stilinski, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, M/M, POV Derek, Porn Star Derek Hale, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3410753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisAttack/pseuds/ElisAttack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a strong, independent adult film star who don't need no societal norms telling him what to do.</p><p>Or the one where Derek's just trying to revolutionize the porn industry, while Stiles is the only one who doesn't care that he's dating Derek's porn star ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've read a lot of fics where Derek (or Stiles) gives up working in porn just so they can be with their significant other. I figure this Derek could never do that, since porn is his art, he could never abandon it for a man, besides Stiles would never allow it anyhow (truth is he loves Derek's porn too much). Naturally Stiles dad and friends may or may not agree with this sentiment.
> 
> Rating will change in the future to explicit, I am gonna white something so porny, you don't even know.  
> Enjoy!

Derek's having a mandatory meet the father dinner at Stiles' childhood home when the topic of his career is first breached.  "So Derek what do you do?"  Sheriff Stilinski asks, enjoyably shoveling a spoonful of Derek's famous scalloped potatoes into his mouth.  With reduced fat, of course, his boyfriend would skin him alive if he used whipping cream like his mother does.

"I am a partner in an adult film studio with my sisters."  Derek answers, cutting into his chicken breast.  He has no desire to hide away what he does.

The potatoes fall out of the Sheriff's mouth, or John, as he likes to be called.  "Okay, um, well.  That's unconventional."  John glances at Stiles out of the corner of his eye.

Stiles doesn't seem to notice because he continues untactfully.  "Derek does amazing work.  He's revolutionizing the industry, and winning a lot of awards for it.  He's one of the biggest names in porn."  He stares adoringly into Derek eyes.  Derek still wonders how he managed such a catch: the artist he admired for months and the man he wanted with a burning ache since the first time he saw him.

John clears his throat, coughing.  "How long have you been dating again?"

"Two months, and five days, counting today."  Derek smiles, and takes Stiles' hand resting by his plate, linking their fingers together.

John nods, and takes a long gulp of wine, staring down at his plate.  Stiles excuses himself to go to the bathroom, letting go of Derek's hand in the process.  The room is silently filled with the clack of cutlery on porcelain before John addresses him again.  "Have you thought about moving to more mainstream filmmaking?"

"Mainstream?"  Derek asks, a sense of dread slipping into his voice.

"Like cinematic blockbusters and the like."  John doesn't look at Derek as he cuts into his food, noticeably avoiding the potatoes that he was only recently enjoying.  Derek narrows his eyes.

He tries not to be insulted, but it's a struggle.  This isn't the first time a parent has openly disapproved of him, but those instances happened long before he got into the adult film business, and were mostly based upon his affinity for leather jackets and scruffy beards.   Derek hasn't dated anyone seriously enough to meet the parents in years, so he's never had the misfortune of experiencing a parent disapprove of his career choice, until now. 

It fucking sucks, because Derek knew it would happen.  He fucking _knew_ , but he still held hope that Stiles' father would take his profession in stride, nary bat an eyelid, and wish Stiles and him a beautiful future with a white picket fence, dog, and just maybe a kid running around.  Derek's only known Stiles for a few months, but he's never felt this way about anyone before. 

But Derek loves his profession, and wouldn't give it up for the world, but he hates being forced to choose between it, and being happy in his personal life.  He knows it isn't an issue with Stiles, they've discussed it before, and Derek knows that so long as he is open with Stiles and safe while filming, he's absolutely happy with what Derek does.

Apparently, Stiles' father doesn't share the same sentiment.

Derek loves Stiles, and Stiles loves his father, so he can be quiet about his thoughts for one dinner.  The toilet flushes, and the sink runs, and Stiles comes back to the dining room, leaning on his chest to Derek's back, wrapping his arms around him.  John looks at them with a raised brow.  "He also acts in the films, dad."  Stiles says, brow furrowed like he's waiting worriedly to see his father's reaction.

John drops his fork.

His boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen: absolutely no tact.  Derek knew Stiles wanted to tell his father right away, but he could've done it with much more finesse.

"Excuse me?"  John asks, voice raised in pitch.  "I know you like to think you're an eccentric artist, Stiles, but that is going too far.  What could possibly make you think that dating someone like that is a good idea?"  Derek can feel himself shrink inside. 

"Someone like that?"  Stiles questions, his voice strained.

"A man who sells sex like it's a commodity."  John whispers like the neighbors might hear and come rushing in with torches and pitchforks.  Derek glances over at Stiles to see him with his jaw unhinged, gaping open, like what his father just said is impossible to process.  Derek knows what John says is true, he does sell sex, it's just the way he said it that hurts, like he's implying Derek's a prostitute.

"Why would you say something like that?"  Stiles whispers, shocked.  Stiles takes his weight off of Derek's back, gripping his shoulder, tight.  "Derek, c'mon, we're leaving."

"Stiles, wait."  John calls.

"No, leave me alone right now.  I need to think."  Derek gets out of his chair on shaky legs, he reaches for his plate to at least take it to the kitchen, but Stiles grabs his hand and leads him over to the coat closet, throwing his leather jacket at him.

"But Stiles-"  John pleads.

Stiles whirrs, turning around to face his father.  "You just implied my boyfriend is a prostitute.  In what universe did you think that was a good idea?"

"But he-"

"No."  Stiles raises his palm.  "Stop talking."  He opens the door and pushes Derek out onto the porch, slamming the door closed in his father's face.

They stand under the flickering porch light for a few moments, Stiles runs his hands up and down his face in obvious frustration.  Derek sees Stiles' nails bite into his soft, pale skin.

Derek grabs his hands, pulling them away from his face.  "That was your father, Stiles."  He pleads with his boyfriend.  "You need to talk to him, at least have a civil conversation with him.  You can't just walk out like that."

"You were there, you heard what he said about you.  I just can't right now."  He sounds so defeated, and it tears at Derek.

Derek scowls, folding his arms.  "I'm used to it."

"But Derek, you shouldn't have to be _used to it_.  You should be proud of what you do, just like I am."

"I am.  Okay, Stiles?  I am, but others, they don't always understand, and you have to understand that."

"Well, they should."  Stiles says petulantly.  "Now, c'mon, let's go back to the motel."

***

"Your father's just worried about you."  Derek combs his fingers through Stiles' hair, as he wraps his limbs around his boyfriend protectively under the floral motel covers.

Stiles cuddles closers, resting his head on Derek's chest, his long fingers forming patterns into his chest hair.  "I just want him to like you.  You both are the most important people to me.  I want you to get along."

"I'm sure he'll come around."  Derek reassures, scratching Stiles' scalp.

Stiles hums, "I hope so.  I don't want to have to choose between you two."  He says, drifting off to sleep with a sigh.  The words fill Derek up with a horrible sense of dread.  Stiles loves his father and Derek knows with his whole being that if John seriously asks Stiles to break up with Derek he'd do it, maybe not willingly, but he'd do it nonetheless.  John's the only family Stiles has left, and Stiles would never abandon his family, it's one of the many reasons why Derek likes him so much.

They wake early to loud banging on the flimsy motel door.  Derek gets out from under the covers and goes to move the curtain, peeking out the window.  He visibly relaxes when he sees it's only the Sheriff. 

"Who is it?"  Stiles asks worriedly, sitting up and lazily scratching the hair on his naked belly. 

Derek digs around in his duffel, pulling on a shirt, before tossing another one at Stiles.  "Your dad."

Stiles stiffens but he pulls on the undershirt regardless, and goes to open the door.  "Dad?  What do you want?  It's really early."  So early the sun's only just peeking over the horizon, bathing the whole scene in light pinks and oranges.  The Sheriff ignores Stiles' question, instead pulling his son into a hug.  Stiles visibly freezes.

"I'm so sorry, son.  Claudia would've had my hide for the way I treated you two yesterday.  I respect your choices, Stiles, no matter what or _who_ they are."  He glances over Stiles' shoulder at Derek standing awkwardly by the window.  "I apologize for what I implied yesterday, Derek."

Derek raises a hand.  "It's fine." 

Derek sees Stiles raise his hands from where they previously dangled limply at his side, wrapping them around his father's shoulder, fisting the olive cloth of his uniform jacket.

Derek smiles softly, it looks like Stiles won't have to choose after all.

They're back in L.A. only a day later because Derek's got a strict filming schedule he has to adhere to.  They don't mention the reason for their early return to John because even though he tries to act friendly around Derek, he still has many reservations, if the studious looks he shoots Derek out of the corner of his eye whenever he thinks he isn't looking, are anything to go by.  At least he isn't hostile anymore.  John really loves Stiles, and Derek would hate to see their good relationship dissolve on account of his career.

Stiles is working in his art studio the morning when Derek lets himself in, before he has to head to headquarters to direct a film.  He hands Stiles a latte and scone with extra butter, exactly how he likes it.

"Hey babe."  Derek greets him, with a kiss to the forehead.  "Isaac says hi."  Isaac was rooming with him for a few weeks while he searched for a new place to live.  His dick of a landlord skipped out on his mortgage, and the bank foreclosed on his apartment building, evicting Isaac and all the other tenants.  It's a shit blow for Isaac, but at least he likes doing the dishes, Derek used to let them stack up.

"Oh, how's he doing?"  Stiles asks, muffled around a big mouthful of scone.

Derek chuckles.  "Good.  He's got his eye on a nice studio in Westwood, and we're thinking of introducing a new film series for him to star in, maybe retiring his nymphomaniac pizza boy persona."

Stiles pouts. "Aww, but that series is my favourite." 

"Even better than my videos?"

Stiles sighs.  "Yeah.  Can't beat the pizza fueled plot."  Then exclaims, "hey!"  when Derek slaps him on the ass.

"Cheeky."  Derek rolls his eyes, but still smiles at his boyfriend.  "What're you working on?"

Stiles grins.  "Okay, check this out."  He walks over to a large cleared area in the warehouse, where the concrete on the floor isn't covered by drop cloths, strainer bars, or all of the other junk Stiles collects to populate his studio.  Derek still wonders why Stiles has a rusted tub sitting in a corner with a lone deflated rubber duck in it.  Stiles mentioned something about cultivating shitake mushrooms, and Derek stopped him right there.  Some things are best left to the imagination.

A large wooden galley panel covers the floor, it's swathed in think amounts of paint, swirling colours and shapes.  It's not Stiles usual style, but it's fucking mesmerizing and beautiful. 

"Not encaustic?"  Derek questions.  The paint is glossy and clear, reflecting light like a mirror, not like the matte opaqueness of the wax Stiles uses for his encaustics.

"No, it's acrylic."  Stiles smiles.  "Malia gave me some pouring medium."  He nods over to a half empty gallon jug.  "It's kind of fucking awesome to work with."  He gushes, mouth rambling, obviously in love with what he's doing, before glancing up at Derek.  "Do you want to try it?"  He asks.

Derek laughs.  "I'm no artist.  I'll just mess up your work, and you've obviously got something really good going on."  He gestures to the beautiful swirls.  "I wouldn't want to ruin it."

Stiles rolls his eyes good naturedly.  "You could never screw up something, Derek, everything you make is awesome."  Stiles winks and Derek feels heat flood his face.  "Now c'mon, I've already mixed the paint in these bottles, all you're got to do is pour it out on the canvas like so."  Stiles demonstrates, pouring out the neon green paint, moving his whole body with his arm in a show of dexterity he possesses nowhere else.  "There, easy enough, now you try.  Pick a colour, any colour."

Derek chooses a deep red from the set, it reminds him of his mother's prized black magic roses.  He obviously doesn't possess the same grace as Stiles, because when he tries to move the same way Stiles did, he loses his balance, one foot stepping right on the panel when he tries to regain his footing.

An frantic apology is right on the tip of his tongue when he sees his foot landed right in the paint Stiles just laid out, but Stiles waves it off.  "It's self leveling, so it just moves on its own to fill in any blank spaces, don't worry about it.  Like I said, you can't mess anything up."  Stiles gives him a significant look, before pushing him the rest of the way onto the panel.

Derek stands there in his expensive wingtips in a puddle of paint for a few moments, shocked.  Stiles giggles at him, and Derek barks out a laugh before reaching out, grabbing his boyfriend by the stretched out collar of his work clothes, pulling him on to the panel to join him.  Stiles holds onto his biceps tight, so he doesn't fall and land on his ass.

Stiles leans his head into Derek's neck, laughing, and Derek can feel his breath ghost over his skin, raising goosebumps.  "So, Mr. Hale, it seems we've gotten ourselves into a bit of a pickle."  Derek lifts an eyebrow, and Stiles gestures to their feet, and huh, the vague green shape they're standing on does kind of look like a pickle.

Derek humours him, lifting his hand to Stiles' neck, playing with the hairs growing at his nape.  "What now, Mr. Stilinski?  _Whatever_ shall we do?"

Stiles' eyes widen, before darkening into a deep bourbon, pupils exploding.  "Hmm, what do you have in mind, _Mr. Hale_?"  He asks, eyebrow raised in challenge.

Derek grins sharply.

Later when Derek heads to the office, Laura takes one look at him and asks why the knees of his favourite jeans are stained a bright neon green.  Derek shrugs, claiming responsibility to the hazards of dating an artist.  Laura smiles lasciviously like she knows exactly what 'hazards' Derek's referring to.

He's just glad she doesn't notice the white stain on his dark shirt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, this is so late, I'm sorry peeps, but like I say I'm a slow as fuck writer, but sorry anyways.  
> so unbeta'd like whoa, so mistakes are all mine.  
> Enjoy!

Derek hates taking LA's public transit.  For such a massive city it's pathetically limited, and the buses never arrive on time. 

It's suicidal to not own a car in LA, as a person with a job where he needs to be perfectly on time, but the Camaro is in the shop getting cleaned after Stiles spilled a double shot espresso on the console, all the while laughing and calling the incident 'extremely ironic.' 

Derek was not amused to say the least.

He's standing on the sidewalk outside his apartment, glancing at his watch every second or two, waiting for a bus that was supposed to arrive fifteen minutes ago.  He has a very important meeting with the partners, one he absolutely cannot be late for, but would, if the bus doesn't arrive within the next five minutes.  Derek sighs, resigned, Stiles wasn't available to drop him off because he was invited to an artist social arranged by his collective, one he RSVPed to months in advance.  Stiles can't stand collectors, but he turns absolutely giddy over the prospects of talking to fellow artists.  Derek couldn't bear to ask him to leave the party early to take him to work.

Finally the bus arrives, with barely a minute to spare.  The driver smiles apologetically and greets him, so Derek doesn't have the heart to shoot him a death glare.  It's a long ride to the studios, luckily with no transfers, he grabs a window seat, and pulls out a paperback, one Stiles recommended for him.  So far _Sacré Bleu_ has been an interesting read, not entirely historically accurate, but then again good fiction almost never is.

He's a few pages in when he feels the niggling pressure of eyes watching him.  Derek glances up quickly, over the cover of the novel, to see a man staring at him unabashedly with an unreadable expression.  At first Derek thinks he's looking at the half naked beautiful woman decorating the cover of the novel, but then he realizes his large hands are covering all her important bits, so that can't be it. 

Derek sighs.

He gets recognized surprisingly often.  Sometimes people even come up for autographs, but fortunately he rarely gets propositioned, that only happens when he goes to certain clubs, and he's had no reason to go to those clubs for months now.  Most often, people blush and look quickly away, like the people around might figure out that in the privacy of their homes they get off to Derek.  He's a dirty little secret for these people, but that's their prerogative.

This man doesn't look away, even when five minutes later, Derek checks on him again.  Gone is the unreadable expression, instead a sneer is plastered on, the man's attractive features twisted ugly with it. 

Oh.  He's one of those.  The closet types.  The ones who are so deep in denial, they project their hate onto others.  He knew one in high school.  Glenshaw.  The bully used to press him into lockers, calling him a faggot, a fairy, and whatever else would come to his mind, only to stare at him showering after baseball practice whenever he thought Derek wasn't looking.

Derek remembers exactly how he got rid of that particular bully.  Derek packs the novel away into his leather estate bag, closing it with a snap.  Catching the eyes of the man, Derek slips a hand up to his neck, rubbing his fingers into the skin, before lightly tipping his head back, using his nails to scratch at the days old stubble, dropping his mouth open in pleasure ever so slightly.

The man looks away with a pink tinge visible on his skin, Derek bares his teeth in victory the exact same way he did when Glenshaw tented his towel in the lockers room, right in front of all his friends.  Derek had purposely bent right over for a few moments longer than necessary, wearing nothing but rainbow socks, as he rummaged through his duffle bag for briefs.

Glenshaw's shocked yet aroused face still brings satisfaction to him years later.

Derek's not ashamed to admit it's one of the reasons he produces porn.  Knowing that he holds such power over someone, it's exhilarating.  The thought that maybe Glenshaw's out there, getting himself off to Derek's porn, and hating himself for it.  It's the sweetest kind of revenge.

Derek never did say he was a good person.

The bus announces his stop and Derek exits the bus with a good bye and wave to the driver, an extra swagger in his step.

When Derek makes it to the meeting, perfectly on time, he slides into his seat between Laura and Cora.  His sisters obviously arrived early going by the mountainous pile of catered mini muffins in front of them.  The director's assistant, Greenberg, staring back and forth forlornly at their pile and his empty plate.  Derek snatches two blueberry muffins out of their horde to Laura's indignant squawk, tossing one Greenberg, and scarfing down the other before Laura can get a word in.  Greenberg stares at him, wide eyed, mouthing _my hero_.  Derek nods back.

"Bitch."  Laura pouts.

"Fat ass."  Derek says around a mouthful of crumbs.  He's loathe to admit he might be absorbing his boyfriend's adorably disgusting habit of inhaling his food.

"You have some gum on your suit leg."  Cora points out, a smug look on her face.

"Dammit."  Derek glares at the green wad of gum ruining his suit.  "I hate public transit."

"No, public transit hates you.  I take it every day with no problems."  Cora snarks, before the door slams open with a bang, startling the occupants.

"Alrighty people, how are you all today?  Good?  Great!"  Finstock strides into the room, plucking the blueberry muffin right out of Greenberg's hands.  "I finished writing our newest script, and I'm telling you, it's going to blow minds, testicles, and ovaries all across this country.  God bless America!"

Laura rolls her eyes, and Derek snorts.  Finstock fancies himself a masterful screenwriter, but he's absolutely terrible at it, and his scripts are always shut down.  He's an amazing director, but his dialogue is cringe worthy.

"Greenberg!"  The man startles out of muffinless stupor.  "Hand all these wonderful people scripts."  When Derek receives his copy from Greenberg, he opens it to the first page, for posterities' sake.  "Okay, get this-"  Finstock makes a large sweeping gesture with his hands.  "Time traveling, but with _sexy_ , cave people."

Derek closes the script with a snap and tosses it on the table like it's on fire.  He glances to his side and sees Laura and Cora doing the same.

"Oh come on, it's a good idea,"  Finstock whines.  "Laura, you keep saying our actors need more hair on their bodies."

Laura cringes.  "I meant pubic hair and happy trails.  Not awkward unibrows.  Neanderthals are not sexy."

"Tomayto, tomahto."

"No.  It is really not the same thing."

"Fine."  Finstock pouts, and grabs Greenberg's chair, sitting in it to the man's indignant squawk.  Derek really needs to raise Greenberg's salary before he sues the company for workplace abuse.

"Okay, now that that's settled."  Cora states, leaning back in her chair.  "We're being nominated for an AVN award for Best Film Studio."  A cheer runs through the room.  "Woo hoo, yes, cheer."  She states, deadpan. 

"And, people, we better _fucking_ win."  She glares around the conference table, and people visibly shrink back into their chairs.  "Not like last year.  I'm not losing to that Blake bitch again.  I would gladly string you all up before they call that hippie, tree fucking shit she makes, porn."  A few people shiver at Cora's words, and Derek smirks.  His sister, the hell demon.  "So ideas people, lay them on me."  Finstock opens his mouth.  "Not you, cupcake."

Laura speaks up.  "I was talking to Danny.   Isaac and him were interested in a Bonnie and Clyde series, a sort of lovers on the run from the law, fucking their way across the country kind of thing."

Derek hums, it's not a bad idea, except for production costs.  To make something era specific would dig a huge hole in their budget, and without knowing what the series would return in terms of revenue, it wouldn't be worth to take the plunge.  "It'd be too expensive, and unless we introduce a modern setting, it wouldn't be worth it."  Derek says.

Laura frowns.  "It would lose its charm if we did that."

Cora laughs.  "You just want to dress Isaac and Danny up in fedoras and pinstripe suits."

Laura raises her hands, eyes crinkled.  "You got me.  Guilty as charged."

"How about you Derek?"  Cora turns to face him.  "Any ideas?"

"Oh come on.   You're asking him?"  Finstock interrupts.  "Derek hasn't made anything with plot, ever."

"And yet my videos are always the most watched on the site."  Derek folds his arms, smug.

Finstock snorts "That's because you have an eight inch cock, and the ability to hammer through steel, not an attention to dialogue."

"Eww."  Cora sticks her tongue out in disgust.  "I did not need to hear that."

Finstock raises his brow.  "Cora, sweetie, you own a pornographic studio with your brother and sister, how can you not be used to this by now?"

Laura sighs.  "We don't edit each other's videos and other people handle the marketing, so as far as the three of us are concerned, we are only involved in post production."

"And as far as I'm concerned, Derek will always be a virgin."  Cora nods.

"Cora, I have a boyfriend.  You've met him."

"Stiles isn't your boyfriend, he's just a friend who untactfully sticks his tongue in your mouth in front of the whole Hale brood."

"Now you're just being naive."

She covers her ears.  "Virrrrgin."  Derek rolls his eyes, smiling at his sister.

"Speaking of virginity, we're signing a new actor."  Laura says, handing a folder around.  "Allison Argent.  Completely pansexual, with the unbelievable ability to moan like a goddess." 

Derek receives the folder and looks her information over.  A pretty girl with chestnut hair grins mischievously back at him, he glances at her credentials, and his eyes widen.  "It says here she studied drama at the Julliard, and graduated top of her class?"

"Right?  Isn't she amazing?"  Laura smiles.

"Why on earth does she want to do porn?"  Derek questions, brows furrowed.

"She said something about how we're changing the industry for the better, and how she wants to be a part of our 'pornographic revolution'."

Derek sighs.  "We aren't going to have a 'pornographic revolution' if we can't come up with a new series.  Does anyone have any more ideas?"

No one says anything and Derek groans, this is going to be one long day.

***

His keys jangle as Derek opens his apartment door, untying his shoes and loosening his tie.  Isaac should be at the studio, cataloguing some costumes and props with wardrobe, but Derek's kitchen light is on.  "Isaac?"  He calls out, but when he receives no answer, he switches the light off, only to notice something square glowing on the floor.  Derek bends to pick it up, and spots a whole trail of them leading off around the corner to the bedrooms.  He flips the light back on, and studies the packet.  It's a condom.  A glow in the dark condom.

Isaac might've spilled a box open in a rush to get out the door, except Derek clearly remembers a conversation between Isaac, Danny, and him, where Isaac said he would never be caught dead wearing something as overtly kitsch as a novelty condom.

In fact there's only one man in Derek's life willing and glad to turn his dick into a lightsaber.  Derek feels his heart beat faster as he follows the bread trail of condoms as they slowly morph into packets of lube, picking them up as he goes along.  His heart stops altogether as the trail ends in front of his shut door, not Isaac's.

Derek turns the handle, opening the door.

Stiles is splayed out on his bed, lying on his belly, legs swaying in the air.  He's naked as the day he was born.  Round, penny-bouncing ass and delicious mole spotted back on full display.  Stiles licks his lips, and Derek's eyes are automatically drawn to trace them.  "Sorry I couldn't give you a ride in the morning."  Stiles says as greeting.

"That's fine."  Derek croaks, as he unabashedly studies Stiles' form laid out on his bed like an unwrapped present.

"I think I ought to make it up to you."  Stiles grins crookedly, legs swaying in loops, his toes curling.  "Maybe I could give you a _ride_ now?"

Oh god, he did not just say that.  But for some reason the horrible pun makes Derek's heart beat at a staccato's pace, and his knees weaken.

"Or maybe I could be the horse in this metaphor, and you the cowboy?"  Stiles rolls over onto his back, and, _oh mother of god_ , there's a satin ribbon tied into a bow around Stiles' flushed, pink dick.  "What are you waiting for?  Undress, and come and get it, big boy."  Stiles smirks his beautiful crooked grin, his fingers reach down to play with the loops of the ribbon, index finger tugging ever so lightly. 

Derek jumps right to it.  He strips his jacket off, and unbuttons his dress shirt so fast, he's sure he loses a few buttons.  Derek reaches down to his belt, quickly and efficiently jerking it out of its loops, pushing down his pants and underwear at once, his rapidly hardening cock springing out. 

He walks over to Stiles, making sure to swing his hips the way he knows makes his boyfriend's pupils dilate.

But Stiles stops him with a raised palm.  "Ah ah ah.  Aren't you forgetting something?"  Stiles asks, eyebrow crooked.

Derek stops.   Did he forget to take off his socks?  He glances down at his feet, but sees wiggling toes, so that can't be it.  Stiles rolls his eyes, and sits up, reaching out for Derek, grabbing a piece of fabric looped around his neck.

Oh.  His tie.

Stiles wraps the silken fabric around his hand a few times.  "Never mind.  I like it, leave it on."  Stiles smirks, pleased.  He uses the leverage of the tie to tug Derek onto the bed on top of him.  "Hmm, I really _like_ it.  Maybe I should tie you to the headboard.  I bet it'll feel so soft, all wrapped around your wrists nice and snug."  Derek flushes.  "And every time you wear it afterwards, you'll think of us in this moment.  How about that, baby?"

"Oh god, Stiles."  Derek whines, his hips thrusting into empty air at the image.  Derek may be a porn star but somehow this man has the ability to reduce him to a blushing virgin.  "The things you do to me."  Derek leans over to nip at Stiles' collarbone, teeth grazing, making Stiles shiver.

"Oh yeaaah, talk dirty to me."  Stiles moans, rocking his hips up and forward, meeting Derek's, creating oh so blessed friction.

Derek swears, tightening his grip on Stiles' waist, at a total loss of what to say, mind blank from Stiles rubbing up against him.  His dick sliding into Stiles' hip hollow, wet precome smearing over their bellies.  "Fuuck.  Yeah, so hot, uh... Schnookums."  Derek blushes.  Schnookums?  Where the fuck did that come from?

"Fuck yeah."  Stiles moans, before his eyes crack open in confusion.  "Wait a second.  Schnookums?"

Derek hides his face in Stiles shoulder.  "Can we just pretend that never happened?"

"Umm, noo."  Stiles grins mischievously.  "You do realize I'm going to hold this over your head for all of eternity, right?"

Derek bemoans his stupid brain to mouth filter.  "Dammit."

"Yup.  Eternity.  Now back to sexy times, where are my condoms and lube?"  Stiles makes grabby hands, and Derek sighs.

"We are not using the glow in the dark condoms."  Derek says, rolling his eyes.  "Novelty condoms break so easily we might as well fuck bareback."  Stiles' eyes darken to black with lust, and Derek flicks his nose with a finger.  "I'll get my good supplies." 

Derek rolls off of Stiles and reaches into his bedside table, while Stiles pouts.  "But lightsabers.  Please?"

"No."  Derek says with finality, dumping the supplies back on the bed.  He recently restocked on his favourite cherry flavored lube, and he wants to try it on Stiles.  Like, literally lick it out of Stiles.  "Did you take a shower before all this?"  Derek gestures to the ribbon tied around Stiles' dick.

"Yuuup."  Stiles says stroking his cock, and Derek might get a bit distracted staring at his nimble fingers running up and down the long length, tugging gently on the satin.  "Why?"

"I want to eat you out."  Stiles motions stutter, and he blinks up at Derek with huge doe eyes.

"Okay.  That is so much better than lightsabers."

Derek grins.  "C'mere."  He pulls Stiles by his hip, manhandling him to he's lying on his belly once again, ass high in the air.

Derek runs his fingers on Stiles taint, all the way up along the crease, and lets his hand rest finally on the cleft of his ass.  He bites his way down Stiles' ass cheeks and finally licks along the pucker, tasting soap.  Hearing Stiles' long moan, and seeing him fist his hands into the sheets, Derek goes to town.

Alternating between long runs of his tongue and short kitten licks, getting lube coated fingers involved, he turns Stiles to a writhing, shaking mess, hands gripping like claws into the sheets, hanging on for dear life.  He works Stiles open, the muscle yielding easily, he must have fingered himself in the shower.

When he's all of three fingers in, stretching and thrusting, Stiles whines, long and high.  "C'mon Derek, just fuck me already."  Stiles reaches out, fingers scrabbling along the sheets until he finds the strip of condoms.  He tears one off, throwing it over his shoulder.  It hits Derek square on the face and Stiles bursts into a fit of laughter which ends quickly when Derek spanks him lightly on the ass. 

Derek rolls the condom on with shaking fingers.  Lining himself up, he slowly enters Stiles, and quickly bottoms out when Stiles suddenly thrusts back on him, moving his hips, grinding his ass against Derek's hipbones.  Derek's breath catches in his throat.

"Holy fuck, Derek."  Stiles moans, burying his face into his forearms, and Derek hums in agreement, snapping his hips into Stiles making them both groan, before picking up some semblance of a rhythm.

With his front resting against Stiles' back, Derek's trying to avoid putting too much weight on him, instead resting on the forearms cradling Stiles' head, but it's hard when he's quite literally fucking Stiles into the mattress.

It's only a short time later that they're both coming, Derek's hand gripping and stroking Stiles' cock as he thrusts into him, his stamina shot to hell.  Derek can make sex _look_ like it lasts forever, fucking in many different positions, but what people don't realize is that it takes hours to film a shoot.  The participants often coming many times.  It's impossible to make good porn without being into it, and the only way to last for twenty minutes without coming is to spend the whole time focused on grocery lists.

And grocery lists do not make for good porn.

Derek can't be anything but fully into Stiles when they have sex.  That, and Stiles' guttural moans have a tendency to push him so far over the edge he's coming within five minutes.

Derek is torn out of his musing by a laughing Stiles.  "What?"  He prods his boyfriend's side, where they're lying collapsed, half on top of each other.

Stiles points down at his softening cock nestled in a tuft of brown hair where, oh, the ribbon is still tied.  "It never came off."  Stiles giggles.

Derek reaches down and unties the satin, and Stiles' cock stirs valiantly.  He runs the red ribbon along his hand, threading it through his fingers idly.

Stiles stares at the ribbon.  "I had some left over from wrapping a present."  Stiles explains,  "And then I was suddenly inspired to wrap my dick for you."  Stiles perks, suddenly remembering something.  "By the way are you free next Friday evening?  It's Lydia's birthday party."

Derek snuggles closer, tucking his face into Stiles' neck, nodding an affirmative.

"Awesome.  I got a great gift, it can be from the both of us."  Stiles runs his fingers through his hair, and Derek rumbles at the soothing feeling against his scalp.

 _I love you._ The thought pops unhindered into Derek head, but it's too early to say the words out loud, instead he presses a warm kiss to Stiles collarbone, and settles down to sleep, ribbon still wrapped around his fingers.

***

"Oh, what is this?"   Lydia asks, holding a tin of what Derek thinks are coffee beans.  The satin ribbon around it makes Derek blush.  He tries to avoid focusing on it.

"Kopi luwak."  Stiles smiles proud.

"What?"

"Civet coffee." 

Lydia drops the tin and it clatters on the hardwood.  "You little shit, Stiles!  You're trying to feed me civet excrement?"

Stiles pouts.  "I thought you'd like it, it's supposed to be a delicacy.  You like caviar."  He explains.

"No I do not _like_ it."  Lydia's eyes narrow as she glares daggers at Derek's boyfriend, who just shrugs it off like her displeasure is nothing.  Sometimes he thinks Stiles gets off on annoying Lydia.

"Well, in that case, it was Derek's idea."

 Lydia stares at Stiles unimpressed.  "Just for that, you're not allowed near my hors d'oeuvres."

"But Lyds..."  Stiles pouts

"Can I have some?"  Derek asks, and Lydia turns her eye to him, looking him up and down.

"With those pants, you can have anything you want."  She winks at him, and Derek rolls his eyes, while Stiles blushes.

"Oh wow.  You know for some reason, I'm totally okay with that.  Can I watch?"  Stiles jokes, and Derek slaps his ass lightly.

"Cheeky."

"You love it."  Stiles snarks right back.  He doesn't know just how much Derek loves it, and him.

"Shut it you two, you're going to make me gag."  Lydia laughs.  "I hope you realize I'll be making this coffee for Jackson anytime he pisses me off, so thanks."

Stiles chuckles.  "See, I knew you'd like it."

"Har, har."  Lydia waves them in through the door.  "Is Ms. Reyes coming?"  She asks Derek.

"Erica can't make it, she and her husband have had floor seats to the Lakers game for months.  She adores basketball, and Boyd humours her."  Derek explains.

Lydia waves it away.  "It's fine, I would miss my own wedding for seats to NYC's Fashion Week."  Derek laughs and a man with ash brown hair strides up to them.  He wraps his arm around Lydia's waist possessively, this must be the fabled Jackson.  He studies Derek, looking him up and down, before turning to Stiles.

"Really, a porn star Stilinski?  How do you even keep up with him?"  Jackson snorts.

Stiles turns a violent shade of red in embarrassment, and Derek frowns, how does he know about Derek's career?

"You don't have to worry about that, he can certainly hold his own."  Derek holds out his hand.  "Derek Hale."  Jackson eyes his hand, eyebrow raised haughtily, before Lydia elbows him in the side.

"Idiot, say hello.  He's the reason we can afford that trip to Maui."  Lydia says, and Stiles laughs.

Jackson shakes his hand, rolling his eyes.  "I know who you are, my best friend, Danny, works for you."

"Mahealani?"  Jackson nods, and Derek smiles.  "He's one of our best actors, we're lucky to have him."

"I know.  Danny was involved in some bad productions before, and I'm glad you got him out, so you know, thanks."  Jackson says shrugging.

Derek knows all about the situation with Danny and Alpha Productions, as he was the one to comfort him, holding his hand while he waited for STI results to be mailed back. 

The CEO of Alpha Productions was a strong advocate against film stars wearing condoms; complaining about Measure B being unconstitutional, violating free expression.  The man had moved his productions outside of LA, allowing filming to be done without condoms, and he fought the law, urging for it to be taken to the Supreme Court.  That is, until the infamous incident which cemented the importance of condoms and constant, vigilant testing in porn.

One of Alpha Productions' main performers contracted HIV outside of filming, making quite a few videos before he was due to be tested.  Fortunately Danny was one of the lucky ones, and only had oral sex preformed on him by the infected man, but a few of his co-stars were not so lucky, and in the end a total of three people contracted HIV.  Needless to say, between the lawsuits crashing down on the man and Derek's own influence, the CEO of Alpha Productions would never work in porn again.  And Danny's moved on to greener pastures.

The rest of the party goes swimmingly and Derek sneaks Stiles some deviled eggs, earning Derek a long, deep, involved kiss in the Jeep before they head back to Derek's apartment.  Stiles, too tired to drive back to his own apartment, crashes, fully clothed on Derek's bed.  He rolls his eyes and attempts to unbutton Stiles' pants, not wanting him to be uncomfortable while sleeping.  Stiles smacks his lips and buries himself deeper into the sheets.  "Ooo, somnophilia, kinky."

Derek snorts, and succeeds in pulling Stiles' skintight khakis down.  He undresses himself and climbs into bed after Stiles, pulling the sheet over them both.  He presses a kiss to Stiles' cheek and snuggles closer, drifting off.

The next day they go for brunch with Scott and Kira.  Stiles literally rolls out of bed, collapsing onto the floor in a mess of limbs, while Derek peers out over the bed at him, laughing his ass off.  Stiles doesn't even have the sense to look embarrassed, he just laughs along with Derek.  They share a long, glorious shower.

After the incident at IHop, resulting in a longstanding ban from all locations within the Los Angeles county, brunch was moved to a cute mom and pop place nearby.

Karine's has amazing waffles that never fail to make Stiles moan provocatively, something Derek never fails to appreciate.

The service is so much better than IHop.  During their first visit, one of the servers recognized him, and instead of glaring at him, she smiled and said his company's the reason her married sex life is so fulfilling.  It's needless to say Derek turned a nice shade of red.

He's been joining Stiles, Kira and Scott at brunch since they first started going out, and sometimes Laura shows up when she has time, getting along with Kira like a house on fire.  Kira reminds him of Stiles sometimes, mainly because of their collective unhealthy attachment to Wikipedia.  She loves to ask Laura questions about the industry in order to find out if what she reads on the internet is true or not.  Turns out most of it untrue, so untrue in fact, he doesn't even know where she finds some of the ridiculous things she asks about.

Thing is, Kira has no shame.  If she wants to ask about the rate of yeast infections because of spit in porn, she bloody well will, even if it causes her boyfriend to spew smoothie out his nose at an acceleration amazing for a human being.  He swears Stiles' best friend must be part elephant, if the smoothie he shoots all the way across the table into Derek's beard is anything to go by. 

Speaking of Scott.

Considering he must've been exposed to Kira and Stiles for long periods of time, he can be quite a bit narrow minded.  Given the way he sometimes shoots Derek these _looks_ which make him feel analyzed and small, when he thinks Derek isn't looking.

When Kira excuses herself to go to the bathroom, Scott turns to Stiles.

"So Stiles, meet anyone you fancy lately?"  Scott asks innocently.

Stiles' brow furrows adorably confused.  "Umm.  I fancy Derek."  He answers fork paused on the way to his mouth.

"Yeah, but other than Derek."  Derek's mouth drops open, because _what_?  He and Stiles are exclusive, or as exclusive as a couple can be while one partner is an adult film star.

"Uh, no?  Why are you asking me that?"

"Well, you know."  Scott leans closer and whispers.  "I thought you guys had an open relationship."

"What would give you that idea?"  Stiles voice rises, his food abandoned.

Scott glances at Derek out of the corner of his eye, and Derek just _knows_.  He cuts Scott off before he can say what's on his mind.  "It's my job Scott, there's no emotional involvement."

"But still.  It doesn't seem fair."

Derek grimaces.  Stiles and him have talked about this already, and it's fine, he doesn't need Scott to cheapen his relationship with Stiles while bringing up his own convoluted opinion.  "What?  That I get to fuck other people while Stiles only gets me?"

Scott frowns, crossing his arms, glaring at Derek.  "Yeah.  That's exactly what I mean."

Stiles says, interrupting their mutual glaring.  "A relationship isn't only about squaring things nice and even, there are other things involved.  You should know, you've been with Kira for years." 

Scott snorts.  "But neither of us sleep around."

"Derek doesn't either."  Stiles helpfully points out.

Scott stares at Stiles like he's an idiot.  "I'm just looking out for you Stiles, I don't want you to be hurt when this blows up in your face."

"Excuse me?"  Stiles glares at his best friend.  "There's no reason for it to blow up.  Derek doesn't lie to me, I know exactly when and if he's filming.  I've met some of his co-stars, and by the way, quite a few of them are also in committed monogamous relationships.  Just because _you_ can't imagine having a partner that does what Derek does, doesn't mean you have to push your beliefs onto me."

Scott and Stiles initiate a violent staring contest.  "Hey, what's going on?"  Kira asks sliding back into the booth.  "Brunch is no time for frowny faces." 

"Nothing, Kira."  Scott says smiling fakely, throwing his arm around his girlfriend's shoulder, still staring pointedly at Stiles.

Stiles breaks eye contact first, grabbing and holding Derek's hand in a death grip under the table, his hand shaking in anger, Derek strokes his knuckles, comfortingly.

Kira is the first to break the stiffening silence, completely oblivious to the tension surrounding the table.   "So Laura offered me a job."

"What!?"  Scott questions, panicked, arm sliding off Kira's shoulder.  "When?  Why didn't you tell me?"

"She just sent me a text in the bathroom."

"You're not going to take it, are you?"  Scott squeaks.

"Yeah, you bet I am.  It's a great opportunity."  She nods knowingly.

"But, but..."  Scott's face droops, and he stares down at his plate.

Derek takes pity on him.  "I assume you mean for the receptionist position that just opened?"

"Yup."  Kira says, slurping Scott's milkshake.  "Five figure salary, with full dental and medical.  Beautiful.  Maybe I can finally get fancy porcelain veneers."

"But your teeth are perfect."  Scott says weakly.

She purses her lips.  "It's the thought that counts."

Scott catches up to them after brunch before they get into the Jeep.

"I'm sorry."  Scott says winded.

Stiles glares at him.  "You don't really mean that, do you, Scott?"

Scott looks down at his shoes, kicking into the ground.  "You have to give me some time, Stiles.  You're my best friend.  I need you to be happy, as happy as I am."  Stiles opens his mouth, but Scott raises a finger.  "I know you are.  Every time I see the two of you, you look so into each other, it's gross and beautiful, and you deserve so much, Stiles, and more."  Scott sighs. 

"But I can't think about what Derek does and not consider it cheating, and I don't think I ever will.  Kira's okay with it, but I'm not, man.  I just think of my dad, y'know?  And the awful things he did to mom."

Stiles pulls him into a hug.  "I promise you, Scott, Derek is the furthest thing from Agent Asshole ever."  Scott chuckles.  "He would never cheat on me, and I am aware of, and am okay with everything he does, so you don't have to worry about me, dude.  Comprendre?"

"Yeah Stiles, I understand."  Scott says discreetly wiping away tears.  He turns to Derek.  "I'll try to be less of an asshole, sorry Derek."

He smiles.  "It's okay, you're just protecting your friend, I understand."

Scott nods, smiling.  "Yeah.  But if you ever hurt him, I'll surgically remove your gonads from your body, without anesthesia, wrap it around your spleen, and feed it to a diabetic pig with awful diarrhea."

"Daisy?"  Stiles says, brightening.  "How is she?"

"She gained about fifty pounds."   

"That's great."  Stiles nods, smiling, like Scott didn't just threaten to kill Derek only a few seconds ago.

And he thought Kira's threat, a few days into Stiles and his new relationship, was terrifying.  At least that one offered quick disembowelment via katana.  Derek hopes Stiles knows just how much his friends love him, because Derek is all too well aware.

He feels his gonads cry out in pain at their love.

***

Derek's just finished a grueling hours long shoot, and he's supposed to meet Stiles for a coffee date at the nearby Starbucks, but he's feeling too drained to walk, so he drives over the two blocks instead of walking like the big, horrible polluter he is.

He's still late, Stiles already sitting in a corner booth, reading a book which he puts away when he spots Derek, grinning.  Derek kisses Stiles on the temple in greeting before going up to the counter to get Stiles another tea, ordering a sugary latte for himself.

He laughs when he sees what the barista wrote on the side of the cup.

"Here's your tea, Harry."  Derek says grinning, handing a frowning Stiles his coffee.

"Harry?  Is that a new pet name or something?  Because I can guarantee you that won't get me as hot as schnookums will."  Stiles snarks.

Derek points to the cup where _Harry Styles_ is written out.

"Seriously?"  Stiles grabs the cup from Derek, studying it, before looking across the Starbucks at the barista who winks at him.  "Why does this always happen?  I was Stiles first."  Stiles hides his face in his hands.

"You hipster, you."  Derek smiles.  "Besides you should be glad.  All the teenage girls love British pop stars." 

Stiles throws packets of splenda at him.  "Har har, my boyfriend the comedian."  Stiles sighs, wistfully.  "Bit late for the teenage girls to want me, they had their chance in high school but never took it."  He looks up at Derek, under his eyelashes.  "Now I'm all yours, big boy."

Derek feels himself flush at Stiles' words.  "Shut up."  He says fond, before climbing into the booth beside Stiles.

"How was the shoot?"  Stiles asks, sipping his tea.

"My ass is sore, but otherwise it's going to be a darn good film."

Stiles grins at him.  "How's Logan?"

"Ecstatic."  Derek deadpans.  "Except for the fact that apparently my ass chafes his dick more than anyone else he's filmed with, something he is always happy to tell me."

"I bet his wife is all too happy to soothe his ache."  Stiles winks, and Derek laughs.

"Don't let Logan hear you say that about Debra, he'll rip your head off."

Stiles snorts.  "I live for the thrill."

Derek scoffs.  "So the shoot went off with no troubles, but we're having an issue coming up with a new series."

"Isaac's pizza boy series is ending soon, yeah?"

Derek nods.  "It's one of most viewed on the site, but we don't want to milk it any longer, Isaac's afraid we'll ruin it."

"You would."  Stiles agrees.  "The plot is pretty much complete."

"Laura wants to produce a Bonnie and Clyde porn remake."

Stiles hums.  "I can see it, but it won't make a good series, the plot would be too heavy for porn, maybe a movie, but not what you guys intend for it."

Derek never thought about that, he was so focused on the cost he didn't consider whether it would be well received by viewers.  No matter how much plot Hale Studios incorporates into porn, it is still porn in the end.  Something used to get people off, any plot must be able to contribute to this, otherwise it's useless.  "What do you suggest?"  He asks Stiles.

Stiles sips his drink, thinking.  "Well, when I was in university, just discovering my bisexuality, I slept around quite a bit, and I wasn't always safe.   I always wished I could have known then, what I know now."

If he's honest Derek went through the same experience in college.  After finding out he was not so into girls as he thought he was, he kind of overdid it on the sex, in the name of discovery of course, and thinking back, it's pure luck he never did end up catching anything.

Stiles continues talking.  "Maybe you could make some educational videos, but attach the plot of someone going through college, sleeping around on their way to self discovery?"  It's not a bad idea, in fact it might be a very good one.  "It could help educate the masses through an interesting, porny way.  Heaven knows I never learned to use condoms and dental dams during oral sex through anything but experience."  Stiles smirks.  "I wish I knew before I gained said experience."

Derek can attest to that.  "I wish I knew not to use oil based lube with a condom before it melted inside me."  Stiles winces in sympathy, and pats Derek on the shoulder.

"It's our duty to educate the masses, dude."  Stiles says before tucking his head into Derek's neck.  "Are you going to tell Laura?"

"Yeah."  Derek smiles.  "I think it's a really good idea."

"Good.  We'll kick the American school system's ass to the curb, it's gonna be so sweet."  Derek nuzzles his stubbled cheek into Stiles hair, and weaves their free hands together.  They sit in a comfortable silence, finishing their respective drinks, and Stiles goes back to reading his book, Derek texting Laura and Cora about the new idea, their hands still clasped.

They're both brought out of their reverie with a clearing throat and a dark shadow cast down on them.

Derek looks up to see a woman with a backpack, and a UCLA sweatshirt glaring down at them. "You should be ashamed of yourself."   

"Huh?"  Derek asks puzzled.

"Showing your face around in public like this."  She whispered angrily.  "There are little children here."

"Excuse me?"  Stiles questions, his voice high with disbelief.  Derek agrees.  Blatant homophobia like this is reserved for small towns, in LA it consists of timed glares, and disgusted looks, not confrontation, especially in public spaces.

"You taint good people with your sinful acts."  She points a sharp finger at Derek.  "My boyfriend's turning away from God because of you."  Derek scoffs, she's not only homophobic, but a insecure woman in a relationship with a closeted man.  Wonderful.

"What the ever living fuck?"  Stiles raises his brow at the woman.  She ignores him, focuses the full extent of her displease on Derek. 

"It's disgusting, people like you, tempting good men onto the path of sin, fags like you make me sick."

Derek laughs, and she startles, surprised at his reaction, but Derek's met enough bigots to know exactly how to deal with them.  "Don't blame me because your boyfriend won't fuck you any way except from behind."  He says, his voice dripping with malice.

Her jaw gapes open like a fish.  And Stiles turns to look at him with a crooked smile and one eyebrow raised, saying _attaboy_ with his eyes.

Derek gathers up their garbage.  "My advice to you, get a new boyfriend.  This one clearly likes cock more than your prejudiced cunt."  He pulls on Stiles' hand, and leads him out of the Starbucks, leaving the woman in the dust.

It's only when they're sitting in the Camaro as they drive away, that Stiles breaks the silence saying, "I hate people who use their religion to enforce their convoluted bigotry.  It's disgusting."

Derek grabs Stiles hand where it rests on the gear shift, twining their fingers together.  "Hear, hear."

***

The idea Stiles came up with in Starbucks takes off.  Laura absolutely adores it and even Cora and Finstock grudgingly admit it's pretty great.  They organize a poll on the site, inviting viewers to vote for their favourite new series, only revealing the results when the poll is up.

Isaac and Danny fall in love with it, and even the new girl, Allison begs for a part.  Apparently almost everyone shares Stiles' experiences in college.  Derek guesses it's a universal thing.  So he knows, even before voting polls come back from the site, that the idea will be well received by subscribers.

It wins by a landside, taking up seventy five percent of all votes compared to the four other ideas presented.  The Bonnie and Clyde theme, as Stiles predicted, rakes in a measly six percent.  He's so glad they never ran with it.

Naturally Isaac is cast as the budding bisexual lead, Danny as his gay roommate and best friend.  Allison is written in as the pansexual, experienced seductress who navigates the scene with Isaac, teaching him about the joy that is safe, consensual sex. 

Derek goes over the script with Stiles and he's the one to suggest, in later episodes, that Danny should also become a romantic interest because Isaac's and his on and off screen chemistry is, according to Stiles, 'hot damn like whoa.'  Stiles even suggests hiring a sex educator to make sure facts are completely straight.   

And so Teach Me is born.  Filming and perfecting the pilot episode takes a few long, strenuous weeks, but it's so worth it, because when the episode is released, it rapidly becomes their most watched video on the site.

They also gain a few hundred new subscribers, and according to Stiles, Hale Studios is trending on the internet.  Derek checks out their twitter page, and he's amazing by the mainstream response to the series.  The majority of their usual subscribers consists of the LGBT community, but the twitter response says otherwise, with many heterosexual adult film stars commenting and praising the series.

When he walks onto set, Allison comes up to him, and gives in a hug.  "See, Derek, I told you we'd change the industry."  He smiles benevolently at her.  Yes they will.

A few days later they receive the letter in the mail.

"Holy shit!  Laura runs up to him in the busy hallway, almost knocking over a prop cart in her rush.  "Teach Me was nominated!"  She squeals, shocking a few interns, waving the letter above her head.

"What?"  Derek questions, staring incredulously at his sister.

"Five awards, Derek, five!"

"What?"  Derek repeats.

"AVN Awards!"  She exclaims.

"Oh.  Cool."

"Cool?  More like awesome!  Brilliant!  Fucking fantastic!"

"What categories?"  Derek asks.

Laura reads off the letter.  "Isaac for Best Male Performer, Allison for Best New Starlet, Best Continuing Video Series, Best Screenplay, all on top of our nomination for Best Film Studio."

"Wow."  Derek says stunned.  They've never been nominated for more than two categories before, and if they win any this time, it'll be a first.

"Yup."  Laura says, grin lighting up her face.  "I need you to go back to Stiles' apartment and bone him hard, bro.  We owe him so damned much."

After Derek finishes cringing at Laura's words, he nods, walking away.  Laura calls out after him.  "Make sure he comes at least three times."  The interns stare at him, and he tries to ignore their impressed faces.  He figures making Stiles come at least three times is the least he could do for the man he loves.  Maybe even four times if Stiles is up to it.

He drives like a man possessed, and when he knocks on the door to Stiles' apartment, he kisses the ever living daylights out of his boyfriend the moment he opens the door.

They end up splayed over each other on the bed, Derek squeezing a bottle of lube in a death grip while Stiles moans wantonly as Derek mouths at his neck, fingers brushing against his hole.

"C'mon stick your fingers in my ass."  Stiles urges him, lifting his legs up higher.

"Hot.  Stiles.  So hot."  Derek rolls his eyes.

"Hey!  Don't say a word schnookums."

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

Stiles shakes his head, grinning.  "Nope."

"Great, now I have to break up with you."  Derek jokes and Stiles slaps his ass.

Stiles manages to come four times and Derek is so proud.  He's damned good at making other people feel good.  He knows how to fuck, how to blow, how to rim, and with Stiles he knows how to make love.  But the thing is, that isn't enough for him.

No.  He wants so much more.

"Why are you okay with this?"  Derek asks, running his fingers through Stiles hair, enjoying the afterglow.

"Huh, okay with what?"

"My career."  Stiles smiles at him then, and it makes his heart skip, and Derek almost can't stand just how much Stiles makes him feel, makes him come alive.  "God, I love you so fucking much."  Derek freezes at his own words and so does Stiles.

"What?"  Stiles asks, voice high.

"Um.  I mean.  Uh."  He gives up and just hangs his head waiting for the inevitable fall out.  They've only been dating three months, it's still too early in their relationship for undying declarations of love.

"Holy shit, Derek."  Stiles gasps, and Derek looks up, expecting a face twisted into a grimace, instead he sees Stiles beaming with his bright smile.  "You love me?"

Derek nods, and Stiles wraps his arms tight around him like an octopus.

"Well that's great!  Because to answer your question dude, the reason I'm okay with everything is because I kind of fucking love you too."

Derek feels complete and utter happiness.

He spends the night wrapped up in love, home and Stiles.

He wakes in the morning to the smell of sizzling bacon.  After taking a piss and brushing his teeth, he makes his way over to Stiles in the kitchen.  Pressing a kiss to Stiles' cheek Derek greets his boyfriend, before rummaging around in the fridge for the orange juice Stiles buys specifically for him ever since the day he caught him drinking straight from the carton.          

Stiles puts down the spatula, and turns off the stove, rationing food onto plates.  "I have something for you."

"Hmm?"  Derek asks, putting down the carton and wiping his mouth.

"Here."  Stiles walks to the key rack, picking a single key off of it, handing it to Derek. 

"Oh."  Derek stares, wide eyed at the simple piece of metal in his hand. 

"I've been meaning to give it to you for a month now, but I never really worked up the courage to do it."  Stiles smiles at him.  "I love you, Derek Hale."

"And I love you."  Derek says breathily.

"Cool."  Stiles grins.  "Breakfast?"

"Fuck yes."  Breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner.  Forever.

***

"And the award for Best Film Studio goes to..."  The host opens the envelope and the audience holds their breath.  Cora digs her nails hard into his palm, Derek tries not to wince.  "Hale Studios!"

Cora leaps up like a jet, jumping around in her pant suit, throwing her arms around Laura and Derek's necks, choking them.  Derek laughs, patting her on the back, she deserves it.  The last four wins were received by Isaac, Allison, Laura, and Derek respectively, but this one's all hers.  She runs up to the stage, grabbing the microphone away from the host, and yells.  "Suck it Jennifer Blake!"

"She already does!"  Someone calls light heartedly from the audience.

"Don't we all, though?"  Cora snarks right back and everyone laughs.  "So who to thank?  Right!  The Hale brood for making this all possible..."

Cora goes on, thanking all the major players in the company, some sponsors and a few family friends, and when the host starts sneaking over with designs on the microphone, she inches away from him.  "And finally, I once told my siblings that we would change the face of porn forever, and would you lookie here, we've done just that, so we've got an announcement to make."  She takes a deep breath.  "Hale Studios is working in collaboration with HBO to release Teach Me as a new primetime series, and we hope the show will be able to do exactly what its title promises: teach."  The host swipes the microphone out of Cora hands, and she sticks her tongue out at him.

"Cora Hale, people."  He the host says and cheers run through the audience, while Cora jogs off the stage, clutching a statue matching Derek's own in her paws.

"We did it!"  She cries out, tears now freely running down her cheeks.

Did they ever.

***

Derek keeps his first AVN award in his office, beside three other similar statues, all won in consecutive years.  They grace the same shelf as the sculpture of his husband's dick covered in paste stones.  Stiles loves to make a smart ass comment about it whenever he comes by to visit Derek at the office. 

Derek loves to kiss him to shut him up.

They both love the office sex which always comes after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about the porn industry, all my knowledge is a result of Wikipedia-fu, so if you know more than me, I apologize.
> 
> I used the AVN awards because as far as I know, they're considered the Oscars of porn, so it related to what I was going for, and I find it is one of the least heteronormative of the "main stream" adult film awards, and I made up a category, since they didn't have any for best film studio.
> 
> STI transmission is a major issue in the porn industry, and some people agree with Measure B (where all porn stars in the county of LA have to wear condoms while filming) while others don't, because condoms aren't built for the abuse they go through during hours of filming. It's a major issue, and really interesting to read about, so check it out.
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading, and leave a comment, especially if you know much more about the topic than I do, tell me :)

**Author's Note:**

> So very unbeta'd, but I tried to catch all grammatical errors.  
> Spelling errors may be prominent if you live in America, so don't yell at me if an extra U or two are involved, I finally figured out how to stop Word from changing colour to color, and I'm gonna milk it to the best of my ability :)


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